


The Unsolved Case of the Disappearance of Captain America

by FassyAnon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mention of Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FassyAnon/pseuds/FassyAnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, all it takes is turning a corner for your life to completely change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unsolved Case of the Disappearance of Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.

He’d been out for a walk in the dead of night. Sure, it was bitter cold. He hated the cold. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever completely thaw out. Problem was it also provided a bizarre sense of comfort, of belonging, so it had been perfect for that night.

Steve had been having trouble sleeping. Hell, he’d been having trouble sleeping ever since he’d been revived. He found that some nights, some sort of physical activity would help, something that would completely drain his energy. It would take forever. Some nights, watching the most ridiculous movies helped. Or listening to music that, at first was like fingernails on a chalkboard, but that, over time, he came to appreciate. Not necessarily all of it, but some.

What he couldn’t do was listen to music he’d grown up with, or watch movies that he’d seen as a child.

On this night, though, he was out, walking. He needed to clear his head so he could get the couple of hours of sleep that were all that his mind would allow. He wasn’t sure if he’d even get that tonight.

He was on his third lap on the route he normally took. He didn’t like to wander aimlessly. He knew there was a possibility that he’d be called in at any time and needed to know where he was. The streets, deserted at 1:37 because _why wouldn’t they be when a bitter wind was blowing_ , were doing little to help him clear his head. He rounded the corner, wondering if he should think about heading home or making another circuit. What he saw didn’t make sense.

Someone else on the street? At this time of night? He quickly glanced around, attempting to ascertain if this was about him, someone wanting to take advantage of the time or the surroundings. No cars on the street. No one lingering in doorways or alleys, at least, not that he could see. No furtive movement in windows: no one hurriedly closing a blind so as not to be noticed.

It was just the two of them.

He slowed his pace, eyes still darting about, but mostly paying attention to the person many paces in front of him. As _she_ walked under the streetlamp, he saw the thick rope of a platinum braid that hung halfway down her back. She wasn’t wearing a hat. _Who in their right mind wouldn’t wear a hat on a night like tonight_ , he wondered. She stumbled, catching herself on a mailbox. He knew something was wrong. No hat, no gloves, too, couldn’t walk a straight line: drunk or high most likely. _She’s not my responsibility_ , but damn it, she needed help.

He picked up his pace and caught up to her as she stumbled again. This time, she didn’t have anything to catch her fall.

He caught her.

She screamed. She hadn’t heard him, hadn’t known he was there.

He reassured her as best as he could, but she was skittish. He enquired, wanting to know if she was okay, if she needed help.

When she turned to look at him he knew she was in pain, black and purple splotches still forming on her cheeks and chin and blood crusted where it had run, but her words, _he’ll be watching hospitals_ , told him she was in serious trouble.

He didn’t know how, but he was finally able to get her to agree to go to his place.

It was in his bathroom that things became clear. It was in his bathroom that he saw the fear in her eyes. It was in his bathroom that he saw the extent of the havoc that some man had wrought on her face, _and her body_. It was in his bathroom that he found out why.

She was trembling, uncontrollably, and it was only getting worse. The shock had to be wearing off. He left her, perched on the edge of his tub, to get her a drink, help her calm down, try to relax. When he reentered she was curled into a ball on the floor, tears streaming down her face. He sat her up and held the tumbler in front of her. She mindlessly took a sip and then promptly spit it out.

 _The baby_.

Those words made his blood boil. Those words changed his life.

She finally calmed enough to take off her coat. She only had a barely-there baby doll on and he saw what had been done to her: the bruises, black and deep purple on her shoulders and her back and her ribs and spreading. The finger-width sized ones on her arms still getting darker. He saw the pattern that was on her thigh and a matching one forming on her stomach and on her backside and when he realized that they were tread marks from some man’s shoe he demanded to know who had done this to her.

She wouldn’t budge, though. She wouldn’t tell him, saying only that he was ‘well-guarded’ and ‘not someone to be messed with’ and that he would ‘sooner kill you than look at you’. He kept at her and only when she put her coat back on and tried to make it back to his front door, obviously in pain, did he realize that she wouldn’t tell him, at least not tonight. Maybe not ever.

He got her back to the bathroom and cleaned up her cuts as best as he could. She winced but kept silent as he used the antiseptic and sighed when he used the antibiotic cream, his touch as gentle as he could possibly make it. He led her to his bedroom and reassured her to take the bed, he’d take the couch.

She did sleep some that first night. He knew because he heard her: her cries and her whimpering as whatever demons haunted her nightmares came to life. He knew because he watched as she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable when her whole body was in pain.

He didn’t sleep at all. He wanted to fix this, but in order to do that he knew he’d need to gain her trust so she would tell him who had done this to her.

The next morning, when she emerged from his bedroom in her coat and tried to leave, he again stopped her, this time with the promise of breakfast. Eggs, toast, and orange juice had never looked so good to her. She didn’t understand what he would gain, why he was trying to help. He had to want something.

When he asked her where she planned on going, she looked at him, her mahogany eyes glistening. She had planned on telling him she had a place, a safe place away from prying eyes. She had planned on getting away from this man who didn’t know her and yet had taken better care of her, was more concerned with her welfare than anyone in her life had. Ever.

She found she couldn’t lie to him and when she told him she didn’t know, he asked her to stay. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, such as they were. She had no documentation, nothing to prove who she was. She had no money, no friends: nothing and no one. It took very little convincing on his part to get her to agree to stay. She couldn’t refuse his logic.

He told her he understood her plight, but she didn’t understand how he could.

Over the next days and weeks, he clothed her, fed her, and housed her. He helped her to feel safe. Once she was no longer in pain she did what she could to contribute, cooking and cleaning, but it felt like a paltry effort in comparison to what he’d done.

He tried to get her to go to the doctor, but she knew that if she did, _he_ would find her. She was still terrified of him. It took many weeks, but she finally explained what had happened. She was prepared for Steve to kick her out, she was ashamed of what she’d done and knew she’d be a disappointment _she was always a disappointment_. She had been so mistaken, so wrong about her ex.

She’d fallen in love with the wrong man. He was wrong because of his business. He was into all sorts of illegal activities. She hadn’t known this when she fell in love with him, but she’d stuck with him, even after she found out, _because_ she loved him. He was wrong because of his family. She didn’t know it when she met him, but he was married and had a couple of kids. He’d kept that hidden from her. He was wrong because of how he treated her. She saw it now: that he’d treated her like a possession, like she was his property that he could do with as he wanted.

When she’d become pregnant she thought he’d be so happy. He'd always talked about wanting a family. She simply thought that he’d been expressing a desire to have a family with her. She’d made special plans, had a whole evening planned, but when she told him he’d snapped. He yelled at her, called her a slut and a whore when not more than 30 seconds previous he’d told her he loved her. He questioned the paternity, saying it couldn’t possibly be his. He said he’d never leave his wife. She was devastated and started packing after he left. She wouldn’t remain with a man who had lied to her and who turned on her and who could be so vicious, so cruel.

That turned out to be a huge mistake.

He came back. He’d been intent on apologizing to her, claiming that she’d simply surprised him with her news. When he saw she was packing, though, that’s when the brutality happened. He beat her and kicked her and left her for dead. He took all of her things as she lay unconscious on the floor. He’d missed her long wool coat and boots that were at the kitchen table, and that was all she had when she came to. She put them on and left, knowing that if he came back and found her still alive, he’d kill her.

She didn’t know how long she’d been wandering when she stumbled and the nicest man in the world helped her out.

She was incredibly ashamed as to what she’d done and she couldn’t look him in the eye. Steve thought she didn’t trust him when she wouldn’t tell him the man’s name. She thought he was judging her when he got up and left the room.

She grabbed a bag and collected the few things she’d allowed him to purchase for her. She stilled when she felt his hand on hers. The last time she’d been touched was when he’d cleaned her up. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his warmth. Who knew how long it would be before she felt something so intimate again.

He asked her to stay. That was all it took.

It was over the next couple of months that they came to an understanding. She learned that he hadn’t judged her; he learned that she was only trying to protect him.

It was a quiet Sunday morning when everything changed.

She’d fixed breakfast and he’d washed the dishes. They were reading the paper, her feet propped up in his lap as he was absentmindedly rubbing them to help keep the swelling down when she felt the baby move for the first time. She yelled at him to give her his hand and when he did she put it right where she’d felt the movement not more than a few seconds previous. She got up on her elbow and they gazed into each other’s eyes waiting for it, for ‘squash’ (they were on a pregnancy website and enjoyed the comparisons to fruits and vegetables) to move and she broke into the widest grin when she felt the movement again.

He felt the baby kick and his world turned upside down.

He moved to wipe the tears that were streaming down her face and he kept moving until he kissed her. He’d fallen in love with her and couldn’t help himself. She’d fallen in love with him and couldn’t have been happier. Their life together progressed. He moved back into his bedroom and made it theirs.

When she gave birth she went into the hospital as his wife. They weren’t married, but it was easier to pretend they were and for him to lend her his name. When her daughter, Sarah, was born, he was in the room with her, coaching her. When that tiny hand grabbed his finger that was it: he was a dad. He asked to be put on the birth certificate as her father. Their little family was complete.

It was a couple of days later, when he brought them both home that things changed once again. They walked into his place and found her ex on his couch.

There was a lot of yelling, mostly on her ex’s part. He did a lot of posturing and threatening, too. Then he tried to take Sarah.

He was not successful.

She hadn’t known she was living with Captain America. She only knew she’d fallen in love with Steve.

Her ex was in poor shape when he left, but he vowed to get even. He vowed he’d have his daughter by his side and that she’d never see her whore of a mother again.

They took his threat seriously. They talked about their options and what they might do, what they were willing to consider. He formulated a plan and she agreed to it.

They disappeared that night and were never seen again.

>< 

It took a while for Daniel (Danny) and Jessica (Jess) Swanson to make friends when they moved to town. Initially, they kept to themselves. Being a new mom, Jess devoted all her time to Stella. It didn’t take too long, though, for the newlyweds to fit into the close-knit community.

It’s actually adorable: when Jess gets really mad at Danny about something, she calls him Steve. It's pretty rare, but when it happens, look out!

It happened in front of their friends one time. Danny got so sidetracked with the little baseball gloves that he saw (they had just found out they were having a boy) that he picked up one of those instead of the tiara Jess needed for Stella’s birthday cake (Jess never did the store bought thing, she always made the special occasion cakes herself). When he walked in the door he got that look on his face, you know the one-the _oh shit, I didn’t get the one thing I went out for_ look-and when she found out, Jess lost it and started yelling at ‘Steve’. When she finally calmed down enough to only be at a dull roar and asked him what he did buy, her anger quickly turned to tears when she saw the little glove.

Afterwards, her best friend, Gail, asked her why she was yelling at _Steve_. Jess’s answer: ‘I’m always afraid that I may say something I might regret in the moment and this way, I can claim I wasn’t yelling at Danny, I was yelling at Steve.'

**Author's Note:**

> I just want Steve Rogers to be happy and have a family. That is all.
> 
> Reposting/Downloading:  
> Please do not repost or make these works available for downloading on any other site.


End file.
